There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind. – C.S. Lewis
I find myself on Pinterest quite a bit. Interestingly enough, I am on it for my job. If you have been on Pinterest you know that quotes are a big thing. When I saw this one I actually read it wrong the first time. I didn’t think I agreed with the quote I thought I read and as the day went along I was mentally writing this entry. Of course when I got home and started writing I realized… I didn’t read it correctly. Oh, well, maybe you can try and follow along and see if you can figure out my skewed logic anyway.
This is me in first grade. If you had told me then that there were better things ahead than behind I would probably have agreed. In my short life I had learned never to cut my bangs by myself ever again, feeding my baby brother black licorice wasn’t funny to everyone, how to ride a 26″ J.C. Higgins bike, how to count to 1,000 and that you can hide the liver under the mashed potatoes because nobody insists that you eat all of your mashed potatoes before you can leave the table. The world was full of potential.
Things just got better and better until it seemed they couldn’t get any better.
My youngest son was three and so sweet and precious. At the stage where you don’t want them to grow any older and just stay sweet and innocent and not become the boy that takes pride in his spitting ability, loves to discuss body functions and names his farts (yes, they do that… and you can find out about these things if you are not on the phone when carpooling.) I wanted to keep him at the age when he still thought I hung the moon and my voice sounded like angels. (At five he asked me not to sing anymore… not even a please.) Later I was subjected to big sighs and eye rolling… and in his teens he dubbed me the Warden because I kept very close tabs on him and wanted to know where he was, who he was with and what were they doing. I am still the Warden… at his wedding my place card said “The Warden.” Now that name brings a smile. These were the years when I would have thought…. maybe Lewis didn’t have any sons so didn’t know the whole story. As I mentioned, he married and we love his wife… things were looking up again. Then they settled down too far away…. sigh.
My number nine grandchild was born. My baby’s baby. He is wonderful. He picked his own names for us. PopPop and Nana. He is 2 1/2 now and skypes with us. He is nearing that precious age when you don’t want them to grow any older and just stay that sweet age. And the other day I saw a sweet picture my baby posted on his FaceBook page. It showed my little grandson playing with his matchbox cars and my son had written… “I don’t want him to grow any older than this.”
[I realize that C.S. Lewis was most likely not referring to people, but rather to things.]